


Fighting Dragons With You

by kjack89



Series: The Story of Us (Fairytale AU) [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Crack, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Quests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:59:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1470718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sir Grantaire and Prince Enjolras have to negotiate with a dragon (and each other).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting Dragons With You

**Author's Note:**

> This part takes place immediately following the previous, but the later ones (provided I actually write them) most likely will not and may skip around.
> 
> Since I named the first part after a Taylor Swift song, I figured what the heck - why not for the second one, too.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

It was hard to say which hurt more — Grantaire’s pride or his head, with the knot surely swelling underneath his helmet — but either way, Grantaire was determined to get away before Enjolras could hurt another part of him. Which was why he picked himself up off the floor, adjusted his armor, and said in a voice he hoped didn’t sound as sulky as he felt, “Well, that’s that, then. Stay here in your castle, and I’ll just…leave.”

Enjolras stopped laughing and frowned at him. “I didn’t say anything about wanting to stay here.”

Grantaire frowned back at him and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Well, you certainly don’t seem open to the idea of me rescuing you, so.”

“I’m not open to the idea of  _anyone_  rescuing me,” Enjolras said impatiently. “I’m not open to the idea of anyone rescuing anyone. ‘Rescuing’ implies that a person has no agency to change his or her own situation, which I certainly don’t agree with, and I hope when I become king to make my kingdom into the kind of place where individual agency is lauded. But I’m not opposed to the idea of leaving this castle after being stuck here for ten years.”

Staring at Enjolras as if he had never quite seen something like him, Grantaire asked incredulously, “Are you actually real?”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow at him. “I beg your pardon?”

Grantaire waved a vague hand in his direction. “This whole…I don’t know, this whole ‘individual agency’ schtick. You’re a  _prince_ , for goodness sake, the heir to a whole  _kingdom_  and here you are blathering about individual rights like you care.”

“Of course I care,” Enjolras said, indignant. “Just because I’m a prince doesn’t mean I’m blind to the needs of my people. Besides, you should read some of the books that I have in here, ancient philosophers like Rousseau and Saint Just; they have  _real_  ideas, ideas about dismantling any kind of monarchy and returning power to the people.”

Though Grantaire was still staring at Enjolras as if he might simultaneously grow another head, he half-shrugged. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

Enjolras glared at him. “Are you calling me a princess because I look feminine, or because you’re trying to demean me by using a feminine name?”

Grantaire looked flatly at him. “I’m calling you princess because I was sent on a quest to rescue — or assist with individual agency — a princess, so goddamnit, I’m rescuing a princess. Or whatever word you would prefer to use in lieu of rescue.” He glanced around at Enjolras’s bedroom. “Now, do you want to come with me? And if so, how long will it take for you to pack?”

“Not long,” Enjolras assured him, offering Grantaire a tentative smile — the first he had given Grantaire, which almost made Grantaire collapse to the floor again, the sight was that damn beautiful. “I don’t really have anything I need to take with me other than some traveling clothes and maybe a few books.”

“Good,” Grantaire said, unsheathing his sword as he heard a distant roar from a dragon. “I want to get you out of here before I slay the dragon.”

As if on cue, the dragon — Combeferre, Enjolras had called him, but since Grantaire couldn’t help but think of wizard Combeferre, who was really the reason why Grantaire was there in the first place, he didn’t want to think of the dragon that way or he might prematurely chop off the stupid beast’s head — landed in the keep and roared at them. “Well, too late,” Grantaire said, a little grimly.

Enjolras had stuffed some of his belongings into a sack and tossed it over his shoulder as he followed Grantaire out of his room and into the keep, and he caught up with Grantaire, an unreadable expression on his face. “Do you have to slay the dragon?”

“Do I  _have_  to slay the dragon?” Grantaire repeated, glancing at Enjolras, bemused. “Uh, no, I don’t  _have_  to, but as I’d rather not get barbequed trying to rescue you…”

Enjolras’s expression turned stony. “I just mean that Combeferre and I have known each other for years, and I doubt he’ll give us much trouble if we were to slip past him.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes and brandished his sword. “That dragon has been keeping you prisoner for the past, what, ten years? And now you want me, a knight sworn to protecting the land from all creatures dangerous and foul, to just let it live because you’re  _friendly_  with it?”

Enjolras crossed his arms in front of his chest and levelled a rather impressive glare at Grantaire. “I just want to make sure that you’ve properly thought this through and aren’t just engaging in mindless slaughter.”

Looking from the dragon, who had settled back onto his haunches to stare at them with wide, unblinking golden eyes, to Enjolras, who was still glaring at Grantaire as if he was the devil incarnate, Grantaire shrugged and sheathed his sword. “Fine. I won’t slay the dragon if you’re sure he’ll let you leave. Not my problem.”

“You can’t just  _not_  kill the dragon,” Enjolras protested, following after Grantaire as he started towards the castle entrance. “You have to at least put up a fight or something, make it look like you rescued me. Otherwise it wouldn’t be a proper rescue.”

Grantaire stopped so suddenly that Enjolras ran into him, and turned to give him a scathing look. “So let me get this straight — you want me to fight the dragon, for propriety’s sake, but not actually kill it, for…reasons I don’t quite understand but am going to chalk up to Stockholm Syndrome. Right?” Enjolras looked torn between agreeing and not, and Grantaire threw his hands up in frustration. “You know, princess, I’m beginning to think that this whole rescuing you thing isn’t going to work out for me. So why don’t you just stay here in your cozy little castle with your friendly little dragon, and we’ll call it a day.”

Enjolras made an actual growling noise in his throat that might have been frightening if he didn’t sound so much like a kitten. “ _Don’t_  call me princess. And what are you going to do, run back to your kingdom as a disgraced knight who couldn’t even finish his quest?”

“It’s a hell of a lot better option than rescuing you seems to be!” Grantaire retorted. “Besides, it’s not like I was the greatest knight in the land to begin with!”

“Fine!” Enjolras shouted. “Go! See if I care! There’ll be another knight along to rescue me, one who’s bigger and stronger and a hell of a lot braver than you!”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “You mean another knight who’s even stupider than I am to get stuck on a quest like this! And you’re the one who’s all about equality, so why the hell do you need a knight to rescue you, anyway?”

As they shouted at each other, they moved closer and closer until they were practically screaming in each other’s face, but at Grantaire’s last words, Enjolras leaned back slightly, something sad crossing his face. “Because if I leave here without being rescued, my father’s just going to send me back. He told me as much, right before he told me that no knight was going to be willing to rescue an exiled prince when there are beautiful princess locked in towers with far easier access.”

For the first time, Enjolras looked like what he was — a lonely man who was really no more than a boy who had grown up by himself because his father had sent him away — and Grantaire’s expression softened. “Look, your father’s probably not wrong about that,” he said gruffly. “Most knights wouldn’t be willing to come after you, because most knights are idiots. But you’ve got a good friend in Combeferre—” The dragon snorted hopefully and Grantaire glanced over at him “—Combeferre the wizard, not the dragon, though I’m sure you’ve been a good friend, too. He lied and said he had a vision about a beautiful princess. So you could have gotten a good knight to come after you, a proper knight. But unfortunately, you got stuck with me.”

“I’m sure you’re a proper knight,” Enjolras offered tentatively, and Grantaire snorted, though he also gave Enjolras an equally tentative smile. “And besides, you’re the one who’s here. And while you might be a bit… _unorthodox_ , I’m not exactly the most orthodox princess you’ll ever rescue, so we seem to be a good match in that regard.”

Grantaire snorted again, his smile widening slightly. “A good match is one way to put it.” He looked back at the dragon and took a deep breath. “Alright. Well. If you want me to, uh, fight the dragon but not kill it, I’m going to need to have a little conversation with our friend Combeferre here. So why don’t you get down the mountain, where you should find Éponine, the greatest horse you will ever meet. Treat her with a little respect and she might not kick you. And, uh, I’ll join you when I’m done here.”

Enjolras nodded, and after a moment, leaned in to drop a swift peck on Grantaire’s cheek. “For luck,” he told him, before crossing to Combeferre and patting one of his massive claws, whispering something to the dragon that Grantaire couldn’t hear, though the dragon let out a low, mournful keening and nudged Enjolras gently as he passed.

Then Grantaire and the dragon were alone, and Grantaire tentatively moved forward, his sword held loosely at his side. “Hi there,” Grantaire said, cautiously. The dragon snorted, two tendrils of smoke unfurling from his nostrils, and Grantaire paled slightly. “Right. So I don’t want to hurt you.” The dragon looked pointedly at Grantaire’s sword, and he chuckled. “Point taken. But I really don’t. You haven’t tried to hurt me and I’m assuming you didn’t hurt my horse. And since you let Enjolras go without so much as a puff of flame, it doesn’t seem like you’re going to try to stop us. But I have to at least make it look like a good fight. So…how do you suggest we proceed?”

The dragon cocked his head slightly and held out his foreleg. Grantaire glanced at it and back up at the dragon, confused. “What do you want me to do with that?”

Rumbling something close to annoyance, The dragon pointed his snout at Grantaire’s sword and back to his leg. “You want me to cut you on your leg?” The dragon nodded, looking smug, and Grantaire said slowly, “Well, that will make it look partially convincing. And then, will you pursue us? Not, you know, to actually kill us, but to make it look good?” The dragon nodded again, this time delightedly, and Grantaire laughed, reaching up to pat his nose. “I bet you’re looking forward to Enjolras being gone, so that you can go off and have fun.”

The dragon purred happily, and Grantaire shook his head. “Alright, well let’s get this over with.” He lifted his sword and held it over the dragon’s leg. “And if anyone asks, you and I both put up a hell of a fight, alright? And for the record, I would have won. I happen to be  _excellent_  with a sword.”

He carefully drew his sword across the dragons leg, slicing just deep enough against the smaller, thinner scales of the side of the leg to draw blood. The dragon blinked stoically and Grantaire quickly took a step back. “That ought to do it. Thank you.”

Nodding once more, the dragon stared unblinkingly at Grantaire, who hesitated for a moment as he slid his sword back into its sheath. “Just tell me one thing before I go. You’re known Enjolras a long time, right? Is he always this much of a pain in the ass?”

The dragon threw his head back and made a horrible hacking sound that Grantaire could only interpret as laughter, and he sighed and shook his head. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

He started jogging towards the keep entrance, calling over his shoulder. “Now come on! And don’t forget — you better make this look good.”

Baring his fangs, the dragon shot fire from his mouth that licked at Grantaire’s heels, and Grantaire yelped, “Ok, not  _that_  good!”

Pursued by the repeated sound of the dragon’s laughter, Grantaire changed his jog to a sprint, scrambling down the hill as fast as he could, practically slamming into Enjolras, who was waiting impatiently for him. The dragon let out a roar and Grantaire said quickly, “On the horse, princess.” For once, Enjolras didn’t argue with the nomenclature, instead scrambling onto Éponine’s back, wrapping his arms around Grantaire’s waist when he climbed on in front of him. “And now we’re out of here.”

Grantaire spurred Éponine into a gallop and Enjolras’s grip on Grantaire’s waist tightened, which was not distracting at all. Or at least, shockingly wasn’t enough to fully distract from the massive dragon pursuing them and shooting fire in their general direction. “What did you do to that poor dragon?” Enjolras shouted.

“I told him to make it look convincing,” Grantaire shouted back, turning to glare at the dragon, who he swore was  _smirking_  at him. “Just didn’t realize he’d try to make it  _this_  convincing.”

They fell into silence as Grantaire focused on getting them as far from the castle as they could, and eventually, the dragon fell behind, roaring after them in what sounded an awful lot like a fond goodbye. Éponine slowed to a walk, whinnying her displeasure at riding so far, so fast, and Grantaire patted her neck. “I know, girl. I’m sorry.” He tugged the reins to halt her and slid off. “Alright, princess, the noble steed needs a rest. We’re walking for a bit.”

Enjolras slipped off of Éponine, landing quite undignifiedly in a large puddle, and it took all of Grantaire’s self-control not to laugh. Enjolras scowled down at the mud before asking Grantaire in an attempted casual tone, “How long of a journey is it from here?”

“Two months,” Grantaire said cheerfully, slinging an arm around Enjolras’s shoulder as they ambled next to Éponine. “At least, on horseback, and since we’re going to have to walk part of the way to give Ép a rest, probably quite a bit longer. So I hope you’re ready for that.”

Enjolras nodded and promptly walked into a tree branch. This time, Grantaire couldn’t stop himself from laughing, almost doubling over as he laughed. Enjolras glared at him. “I’m just not used to the…outdoors,” he said primly.

Grantaire sighed and shook his head. “It’s gonna be a  _long_  two months…”


End file.
